About freakin’ time…

Yeah baby yeah.

So the boy can’t dance. But that’s all pounds, shillings and pence to us ’cause our reasons for watching Mark Foster off-of totally not gay, no way, on Strictly Come On My Tits Dancing had nothing to do with how graceful his lovely long Lindas were on a parquet floor.

So it was with two woops and a prolonged cheer in our dolly household that Mark’s denouement was met last night, after he bowed to public pressure and peeled off his lady’s blouse so-help-us-Baby-G, after being booted off the show for being a bit shit at the dancing thing – accompanied, as evidenced above, by the two-thumb’s up, shy-boy-going-a-bit-wild gesture. Which is endearing if you like that sort of thing.

There’s another pictorial after the jump, as well as his strip in moving pictures. Wethankyou.

Watch blondie's hand there, Mark...
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5 comments to “About freakin’ time…”

  1. It was like watching your most embarrassing (and embarrassingly hot) uncle dance.

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  2. Yum.

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  3. You were only watching it to get a glimpse of us! What will you do now?

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  4. I don’t know how I feel about this. All I wanted was to see him strip, but once he had and gave the thumbs up, a little piece of me died. What on earth did Colin Jackson make of it?

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  5. A damn good meal of it, that’s what. The same as he does every night. Lucky bastard!

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